


The Scrapbooks

by Rhiw



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: AU after S1E15, Alpha Sean Renard, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Traits, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Nick Burkhardt, Chapter count may change, F/F, F/M, Gen, Inhuman Thought Processes and Morals, M/M, Made up Grimm Mythology, Monroe and Nick are bros for life, Monroe is a huge nerd, Monroe loves Royal Watching, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Nick Burkhardt, Protective Monroe (Grimm), Slow Burn, Top Sean Renard, breaking up, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: Monroe is a bit of closet royal-watcher. Okay, maybe more than a little bit of one. He may or may not own a scrapbook. Or a couple. And it's not his fault, okay? His grandma and mom had been totally obsessed with them. He just kinda...you know...kept up the tradition of chronicling their activities. It's not that weird, it isn't. Humans do it all the time with the Windsors. How was he supposed to know that Nick had no idea about them, or the fact that his boss was one?Or; Monroe and his scrapbooks inadvertently destroy all of Sean Renard's carefully laid plans.
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, Nick Burkhardt/Sean Renard, Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Comments: 42
Kudos: 342





	1. The Scrapbook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission fic my laid off ass took from thelastjedininja from RL. Enjoy!

So.

Here’s the thing.

Monroe is super aware of what a nerd he is. He plays the cello, he repairs clocks for a living, he has – not one, not two – but _four_ argyle sweater sets with matching socks. He’s a vegetarian, brews his own beer and mead, and knows _way_ too much about the Young and the Restless. He’s a nerd, a big one, with a capital ‘N’ and all. And, arguably, his best friend was a Grimm. So apparently, he didn’t have any survival instincts either, even if Nick was totally different from what Grimms typically were.

How the hell he managed to get someone as blatantly awesome as Rosalee Calvert interested in him, Monroe has no idea. She’s so, so way above what he ever thought he could pull. Which was why _she could never know about the scrapbooks._

That just may be one step too far, the Blutbad thought seriously as he carefully smoothed a newspaper cutting down onto the page. Sean Renard, Portland's very own Royal, stared back at him in black and white print, his hand extended and held by the mayor of Portland. You see, Monroe was a bit of closet royal-watcher. Okay, he admitted begrudgingly as he glanced over at the small stack of scrapbooks lined up neatly underneath his TV, maybe more than a little bit of one. He was a _major_ royal-watcher.

And that was totally not his fault, okay? His grandma and mom had been totally obsessed with them, with GramGram starting the first scrapbooks before she even left Germany. Monroe had just...you know...kept up the tradition of chronicling their activities. It wasn’t weird, it _wasn't._ Humans did it all the time with the Windsors. They’d gone through all that trouble of overthrowing the British, but the moment _anything_ of note happened with the British royal family, the Americans just ate it all up.

So it wasn’t that weird, like, at all. Monroe scratched his beard, before closing the scrapbook with a decisive nod. He tucked the book back into place besides its fifteen siblings. He stared at their leather spines for a second, lips quirking to the side in chagrin.

_No one can ever know._

* * *

Nick sighed as he turned his Toyota cruiser off. He stared blankly at the wheel before letting his eyes drift over to Monroe’s house. All the lights were on, making it look warm and cozy despite the current deluge. It rained so much in Portland, something that even after all these years Nick didn’t know if he’d ever get used to.

What was he doing here?

It was a Friday night and back at his home, he had a perfectly good Alpha waiting for him. And Juliette _was_ perfect. She was kind and sweet, affectionate and patient. But still, here he was – getting ready to spend a rare Friday night off with a Blutbad instead of at home. Nick felt his shoulders drop in guilt. He knew that dating a cop was not an easy thing; his hours were crazy, he was on call twenty-four-seven, and despite his best efforts he often ended up taking work home. And that was before you even threw in the Grimm stuff.

It was arguable, which one was worse for his relationship. Even if he’d ended up being a Siegbarste, it had been Nick’s job as a cop that had led Oleg Stark to his home. And it had been his Grimm heritage that had brought Ariel Eberhart to abduct his girlfriend.

Yet despite all of that, Juliette had been understanding. Supportive. But Nick knew that their relationship was more strained then the redhead was letting on. It showed in subtle things; the pursing of her lips as she’d eyed Monroe, without a doubt wondering why it was that Nick had never spoken about him before if they’d worked together as often as Monroe had made it sound like they did. And if she’d bought the private detective line, Nick would eat his shield. And then there was Ariel; never before in the history of their three years together had Juliette ever come so close to accusing him of cheating. Her reaction to Ariel’s taunting had been telling, even if she’d let herself be soothed by Nick’s explanations and lies.

And that was really the crux of it, wasn’t it? Everything was lies now. He leaned back, letting his head thunk against the fraying faux-leather of his seat. He hadn’t meant for it to get this bad – never to the point where he’d told more lies than he could even keep up with. It had just…happened.

Aunt Marie’s words haunted him, her urging him to give up Juliette if he really loved her, if he really wanted to protect her. But the idea of it was…just impossible. Nick had never met an Alpha like Juliette; she was everything he had ever imagined having in a mate. But everything had become so muddled now. He thought about the bonding ring he’d found in Juliette’s underwear bag and the matching one that sat in his own sock drawer.

Maybe it was telling in itself that it had been months since he’d found Juliette’s, even longer since he’d bought his own. Maybe there was a reason why neither one of them had asked. Nick had thought it would be so funny; Juliette would pick a moment, maybe after a shared heat or a weekend away, during a night out or a dinner in. She’d pull out her ring, a gleam in her eyes, and Nick – grinning like a fool – would produce his own ring. And it’d be perfect for them both, because they’d already know the answer. They’d both had the same idea and that alone would have shown how serious they both were about each other.

But here he was. Sitting in front of Monroe’s.

It wasn’t that Nick didn’t _want_ to spend time with Juliette. It was just…between the guilt and the weight of the lies, sometimes it was hard to really relax around home. Nick was always just waiting for the next lie he was going to have to tell. With Monroe, Nick could be himself – his true self, Grimm and all.

He could just tell Juliette everything. He’d come so close to doing so a hundred times, but something always held him back. It had started out that Nick hadn't thought she’d believe him, then it was that her mind wouldn’t be able to handle it. And then it became about keeping the Grimm part of his life away from his homelife. But somehow, without his knowing, Nick had become more comfortable with being a Grimm. It had become a bigger and bigger part of his life, until it _was_ his life.

He would always be a cop first and Grimm second, but if anything the last few months had taught him that the two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. And then it had just become too big of a thing; if he told Juliette, he’d have to tell her _everything._ And that was a lot. A lot of lies, a lot of Nick just consistently lying to the woman he claimed he wanted to mate with.

Being around Monroe was easier. Sometimes after a hard day (and not everything that made his job hard was Wesen related, Humans could be just as monstrous on any given day) he needed easier. Nick’s friendship with Monroe was still somewhat new and tenuous, and at times Nick knew that he got on the clockmaker’s nerves, but Monroe had never shut the door when Nick came knocking. Even after six months of showing up (mostly) unannounced, Monroe had yet to really deny him. And he’d been an amazing help. It wasn’t like Nick didn’t know how much he’d asked of the Blutbad in the past.

At some point, Nick’s visits stopped being solely about Grimm business and the Wesen world. Monroe never seemed to mind if he showed up to watch the game or just to have a beer (Monroe had really, really good artisan beers), so Nick liked to think they’d become friends.

Which was nice because Nick didn’t have a lot of friends. Okay, Nick didn’t have any friends outside of Hank. And the fact that Monroe was a Beta meant that Juliette wouldn’t be concerned if she picked up his scent on her. She was usually asleep when he got home, so most nights he had a chance to change and shower before she could even get a chance too. Not that it was necessary.

It wasn’t like Juliette was a controlling partner. She was – quite proudly – what she liked to call a ‘modern Alpha,’ and was more than willing to let Nick go off and live his own life. She wouldn’t have minded if Nick said he’d made friends outside of work. In fact, she’d probably just be ecstatic that Nick had made a friend at all. And he knew that Juliette would never think he was cheating on her. She knew that Nick was only attracted to Alphas, so Monroe would be a non-issue even if he was male.

So why had he lied and told her they’d worked together? Nick thought it was because of the Grimm business; he didn’t want anything like that around Juliette, especially after the break I'm and kidnapping. And now, it was just too late to take the lie back. Nick hated how that story seemed to be repeating throughout his entire life. With a sigh, he ducked out of the car and made his way up to the front porch. He gave Monroe a grin when he answered the door, holding up a plastic bag.

“I brought dip.”

* * *

Monroe was rambling about some clock that he was supposed to be picking up tomorrow while Nick watched the game, sipping at a beer. As always, Monroe’s place was completely clean and organized. Seriously, for a bachelor he kept his place orderly, certainly better than Nick ever did on his own. Nick let his gaze drift about, shaking his head as he spotted a new clock mounted on the wall.

It seemed like every time he came over Monroe had ‘adopted’ a new one. He just couldn’t stand letting a good clock go to waste – or, in Monroe’s own words – the tragedy of fine craftsmanship being wasted on the stupid and unappreciative. His eyes drifted back to the TV and down, to the only digital clock in Monroe’s house (he thought they were plebian) on his cable box. The Winterhawks game was only halfway through and it was already pushing nine. Juliette would be asleep for sure by the time he got home; she was never one for late nights.

A row of leather-bound books caught his attention. At first it was because they were old and well cared for, and Nick’s mind immediately shot to the idea they may be books about Wesen, before he saw the years inscribed on the spines. He grinned, setting his beer down and reaching for one labeled 1995-1996. He hoped they were photo albums; Nick would _love_ to see some photos of Monroe in his ‘grunge’ phase. He flipped it open, eyebrows rising in surprise when he was faced with a handful of newspaper clippings instead.

“Hey, Monroe?”

“Yeah?” The Blutbad called back.

“Who is…” Nick squinted at name, “Lady Alexandria Margret Lousia Mary Plantagenet and why do you have like, Jesus, thirty articles about her…coming out? What the hell is even that?”

There was a yelp from the kitchen, the sound of ceramic smacking on Monroe’s butcherblock countertops, and then the Beta was skidding into the room, eyes round.

“Nick, ohmygod!” The Blutbad all but snatched the scrapbook from his hands, holding it protectively to his chest. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to snoop?”

“Woah.” Nick held his hands up in supplication. “My bad. Sorry, I thought they’d be pictures of you.”

“Well, they’re not.” Monroe sniffed, closing the book with a snap.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Nick said dryly. “What are they though? Are you two related or something? Is she a Blutbad?”

“What? No, of course not.” Monroe snorted. “Like I’d be living here if I was related to Alexandria Margret Lousia Mary Plantagenet the Third.”

“Wow, you’ve got that name down.” Nick said, amused, before lifting another book free and paging through it. “Are these in Russian?”

“Hey!” Monroe snapped, grabbing the book from his hand, “stop that!”

“Seriously,” Nick said, ignoring his frantic friend and pulling another one out, flipping it open. German this time, with English translations, “what is all this?” Monroe snagged that book too, leaving Nick to blink owlishly up at him before he grinned. “You know I’m just going to keep pulling them out, right?”

To prove his point, he pulled the one labeled 2005-2006 out. Monroe let out a low growl of frustration, his arms full of the over-sized scrapbooks. “Nick, man, just put that back.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will. You’ve got my curiosity peaked.” Nick said as he thumbed through the pages. “Wow, you’ve got a lot of languages here.”

“Well, yeah.” Monroe said stiffly. “They’re spread out all over the place.”

“Who are?”

“The Royals.” At Nick’s blank look, Monroe’s brows furrowed. “You know, the Royal Families.”

“The Royal what-nows? Like the British?”

“No, I mean – you know! _The Royals.”_

“Obviously I don’t know.”

Monroe looked astonished. “What…no, really? Oh my god – we’ve totally neglected like a cornerstone of your Grimm teachings. No, more like a _foundation.”_

“Alright, I’ll bite, tell me about these ‘Royals.’”

“I’m surprised you haven’t run into them in your books yet.”

“I haven’t really gotten that far.” Nick admitted, “I try to read when I can, but between work and Juliette…I mean, I mainly just go to them for what I need for a case.”

“Well, look’em up, they’re completely real. There are seven royal families – well, technically nine – seven in Europe, two in Asia – but the only ones that you ever really hear about in the New World are the seven.” That was another interesting quirk of the Wesen world; they still tended to refer to the Americas as ‘the New World’ and Europe as ‘the Old World.’ “And they control _everything._ And I mean, everything. Global politics, the economy, dude – they even start and end wars at will.”

Nick looked up from a birth announcement to give the Blutbad an incredulous stare.

“I mean it.” Monroe said enthusiastically. “Royals are totally real and they rule like seventy percent of the word.”

Nick snorted as he leaned over the coffee table, snagging a handful of chips for himself. “I’m sorry, it just sounds a little…you know, tin-foil hat-ish.” He shrugged at Monroe’s annoyed look. “You have to admit that it sounds a little bit ‘who really killed JFK.’”

Monroe scoffed, setting the scrapbooks down on the table to plop on the couch. “Dude, Lee Harvey Oswald was totally a patsy. The Royals killed JFK.”

Nick’s chip froze halfway to his mouth. “…Jesus, how deep in this are you?”

“No, I’m serious! JFK was a _Wesen_ , man, why do you think they had him assassinated? No way they were gonna let a Wesen lead a country.”

Okay. Nick was just going to shelve that little nugget away to freak out over at a later point.

“So, what,” Nick drawled slowly, “you want me to believe that there is an all-powerful monarchy out there that I have somehow never heard of?”

“Seven,” Monroe clarified, _“seven_ _all powerful_ monarchies. And – jeez, Nick – out of everything you’ve seen so far, this is the part that you can’t believe? You’re watching a Winterhawks game with a freaking werewolf.”

Nick paused, then shrugged. “Okay, fair point.”

“Okay, so you know – the Big Seven.” Monroe held up his fingers, counting them off as he talked. “So, in order of the most powerful. You’ve go the House of Kronenberg – they call the family lines Houses – so yeah, Kronenberg. Politically, they’re the strongest and they’re located in Austria.”

“Austria isn’t a monarchy.”

“Well, no. Not anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Stop thinking like a Human for a second, okay? It doesn’t matter if the official monarchies are still there or not, trust me, these guys still hold _all_ the power. They’ve got the money, the political backing, and the manpower to keep themselves in control, even if they’re not in the limelight anymore. In fact, most of them are happy they’re not known anymore. Gives them more room to just…. _loom_ over everyone.

So, the Kronenbergs; they can trace their heritage all the way back to Charlemagne the Great. Even after it became the Holy Roman Empire and then the Austrian-Hungrian – no…wait a minute, there was the Austrian Empire in there, with Francis the Crazy Pants in between the two. Anyway, so yeah – they just kept marrying into the line. Technically, the direct lands they control are Austria, Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, Belgium, um, Luxenberg, Hungry, Switzerland…I’m forgetting one. Jeez – oh yeah! Slovakia.”

“One family control’s all of those countries.” Nick said, voice doubtful.

“You better bet your butt they do,” Monroe said, nodding decisively. “I mean, the Human governments run them, but the Kronenbergs have the final say.”

Nick nodded, not quite believing it.

“Okay, so Kronenbergs; most powerful of the Royals. Then we’ve got the Romanov-”

“Now, I _know_ you’re pulling my leg.” Nick interrupted, amused.

Monroe reared back, affronted. “I am not. Like I said, they like not being in the spotlight. They may have given up official control of Russia, but man – Anastasia totally lived. They own all of Russia and most of Eastern Europe. They’re a pretty strong second for power in the courts.”

“Courts.” Nick echoed, feeling a low thrum of a headache coming on.

“Yeah, they’ve got courts still. Keep up, Nick, basically a still functioning feudal society. Then you’ve got the Ottomans, who control Turkey and, like, all of the Middle East and most of Northern Africa. And _then,_ you’ve got the House of Grimaldi, which rule over Greece and Italy, and…damn, I’m so bad at Eastern Europe. Uh, Croatia, Bosnia, Montengro…uh…a couple more, crap, hold on.”

Monroe got up and pulled the first scrapbook free, flipping it open to the first page where a giant, color coded map of Europe lay.

“Okay, there’s a key up here to tell you who owns what.” Monroe pointed out and Nick leaned in, eyes widening when he saw every country shaded a color. “Anyway, so; Kronenberg, Romanov, Ottoman, Grimaldi, and then the Oldenberg family, which controls Greenland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Finland. Then the Borbón-Anjou and the Bourbon, which count as two Houses, but they’re _super_ tightly aligned because they’re both a part of the Capetian dynasty. Well, all the families are kind of interrelated at this point, but those two rule over Spain and Portugal, and France respectively. And finally, the House of Plantagenet which controls the UK.”

Nick stared back down at his lap, thumbing through the pages and taking in the care and attention Monroe had paid each one. “…you’re really into this…aren’t you?”

Monroe flushed, clearly embarrassed. “It’s not weird, okay? Trust me, when you’re a Wesen it pays to know who the Royal Families are. And my mom like, _beat_ it into my head when I was younger. Always important you know who not to piss off. And you better bet we never took any family vacations to Europe.” Monroe made a face. “Not that we could have afforded them.”

“And they just…own all this land? What do you mean, they control it?” Nick asked, eyes furrowed as he took in the fat and ancient looking face in one of the photos.

“Just what I said. They may not be technically the crowned rulers or anything anymore, but they hold pretty much complete political sway over the Wesen communities there and pretty much the same over the Human governments.” Monroe leaned back on the couch, saluting Nick with his beer. “And the EU? Total Royal move to unify lands.”

Nick licked his lips, totally thrown. “And…the Human governments just let a bunch of Wesen rule over them like this?”

“What?” Monroe looked confused for a moment, then his expression cleared. “Oh no, man, the Royals are Humans. Well, technically Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen.”

Nick stared at him. “How the hell did they manage that?”

“Well,” Monroe said slowly, sounding the word out, “to start with, they used to control the Grimms.”

Nick stiffened, eyes wide. “What?”

“Man, Marie didn’t tell you much did she?”

“You know she didn’t.” Nick said sourly, fighting the urge to cross his arms defensively and settling for glowering at his friend instead.

“Sorry, sorry.” Monroe said with a wince, “don’t Grimm at me, man, I didn’t mean it like that. Well, from what I understand, Grimms didn’t use to be chop head off first, ask question later. They were more like you now.”

Something in Nick unexpectedly loosened at that, some knot he didn’t even know he had. It had never quite stopped being disturbing how the Wesen community reacted with such fierce fear to him, as a person and a cop. Learning from Monroe and Rosalee just what type of Grimm his aunt had been – something that Nick still couldn’t quite come to terms with the woman who had raised him – had been shocking. It was refreshing to hear that not all of his ancestors had been merciless killers. More often then he liked Nick had sat, staring at one of his ancestors' books, wondering about each entry and if there had been another side to the story. If the Wesen they’d killed had just been trying to get some shopping done before they and their entire family had been murdered.

“They used to call them Arbiters.” Monroe continued, oblivious to Nick’s thoughts, “and they served as judge, jury, and executioner for the Royals. I dunno when it all went wrong – like hundreds and hundreds of years ago – but at some point they stopped being affiliated with the Royal families and just kind of started doing their own thing. Maybe that had something to do with the Royals becoming as ruthless as they are now, maybe it happened because they got so ruthless. Point is, neither Grimms or Royals are what they used to be.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. “And the other two families? You said there were nine.”

“Oh yeah, one’s the Royal Family of Japan, the current one. They’re like the only ones still technically a monarchy, and some descendants of the Tang Dynasty are still around. I admit I don’t know much about them, they keep to their own corner of the world. I don’t really know the Ottoman Royal Family either.”

Just when Nick didn’t think his world could get any weirder, it somehow did. “So, you just…follow these families.”

“Yes.”

“And…keep anything with their name on it.”

“So, I like to do some Royal watching. Nothing wrong with that! Humans do it all the time with the Windsors!”

“…did you add stickers?”

Monroe flushed. “It was a marriage announcement, I wanted it to be festive. Don’t you judge me! You owe me so much, you don’t get to judge me for this.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Nick lied, grinning, “my god, Monroe. Just when I thought you didn’t have any more quirks for me to find. First the crazy biker ex-girlfriend and now this. What’s next?”

“Well, I live to surprise you.” Monroe sniffed.

“Hey, why do you have a Portland section?” Nick asked, brows rising as he caught sight of the paper divider. “You didn’t say anything about them owning any land in America.”

“Because they don’t.” the Beta said huffily, crossing his arms. “They never really got a foothold in the New World. They tried with Brazil and Mexico, but it didn’t pan out.”

“So why do you have a Portland…” Nick’s question petered out as he stared at the book. The black and white photo of Sean Renard, in full police captain regalia, stared back at him. The article was from six years ago, when Renard had first been appointed. Nick stared at it blankly, before slowly looking up at his friend. “Monroe…why the hell is my boss in here?”

Monroe stared back, eyes wide. “Sean Renard is _your boss?_ I mean, I know you guys worked in the same building. But like - you know him? Holy shit, do you think you could get me his autograph? I mean, like discretely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone liked it, especially you tLJN. I just binged the whole series of Grimm and shit, I loved it. Like, was not prepared for how much I adored season one and two. I'm thinking JFK was a Jägerbar, since they love law and order.


	2. Instincts, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys! The job search stole my attention for a bit, but I'm back.

There was a Wesen behind the counter at Sean Renard’s expensive looking condo building. Nick watched him from his car, waiting. He didn’t really have any idea what he was going to say to the Captain, but Nick needed answers. Answers and…something, to explain what he’d just learned. Before tonight, Nick would never have dreamed of showing up at his boss’ home unannounced like this, much less this late on a Friday.

And yet, here he was.

Because Monroe had been _so sure –_ sure enough to have pages and pages of Sean Renard cut and neatly pasted into his scrapbook – that he was a Royal. Which would mean – God, it would mean so many different things. But it would mainly mean that his boss knew about Wesen and Grimms, probably even that Nick was a Grimm himself. Monroe had said that Royals were almost always Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen. He explained that while sometimes Humans could and did breed with Wesen, those kinds of hybrids were very unwelcomed in Royal society. But Monroe had then followed it up by admitting that it was weird that Sean was here in Portland and not in Europe, which meant that something had made him at odds with the rest of the Royal Families.

 _“You know, there was no birth announcements for the year he was born. Not for the Renard family, at least.”_ Monroe had said, looking worried as Nick had pulled his jacket on, keys already in his hand. _“Look, Nick. You sure this is a good idea?”_

 _“I have to know.”_ Nick had said, voice hard, and here he was. He needed answers from his boss, answers that couldn’t wait for Monday morning at the precinct. Which was why he was sitting here, waiting for a security guard to take a break and leave his station. He could feel the man was a Wesen even from the car, which was kind of encouraging because it meant that he was starting to get a better understanding of his Grimm powers, but kind of not because what if this was some kind of Wesen that could hold it for hours?

“Come on, man. Just go to the bathroom.” Nick grumbled, before perking up. The security guard stood, taking a small clipboard from the desk and tucking a pen into his pocket. Nick waited until he’d disappeared down one of the hallways framing the elevators before jogging across the street. He was relieved to find the door open, though he winced when he heard the loud ‘ping’ of sound that accompanied. His hearing could pick up the pause in the guard’s step, then the sound of shoes turning on carpet. Nick shot forward, opening the stairwell door just enough for him to squeeze inside before carefully closing. It closed with a soft and barely audible ‘click.’

Nick grinned at it, before turning and starting the climb up. He knew from the Captain’s files that he lived on the top floor, in the penthouse suite. All those extra workouts with Monroe must be helping, because he made it to the top hardly out of breath. Usually Nick hated stairs; it seemed it never mattered how fit you were, stairs would always exhaust you.

He opened the stairway door, pausing for a moment to gather his courage. Despite everything he’d learned, this was still his boss that Nick was about to visit uninvited. Nick cracked his neck, chiding himself for being a coward before stepping out. The hallway was long with thick red and gold carpet in some geometric pattern. There were only two doors on this floor, one on each side, located towards the middle of the hallway. Nick straightened his jacket as he made his way down. For a moment he had a wild fear that Monroe was wrong, and he was going to end up looking like a jackass and totally unprofessional when he knocked. He couldn’t imagine his boss’ face to Nick just showing up out of the blue if he was just a normal Human. But those thoughts fled when he came closer and the door began to open on its own.

“Don’t worry,” Nick heard a distinctly feminine voice say as the door opened, “he’ll be eating from my hand.”

It was Adalind Schade, Nick would recognize her voice from anywhere. It seemed like every inch of the Beta woman was burned into his brain, from her good looks, to her scent, to her true face as a Hexenbiest, and it had been since that night in the hospital.

“He better – Detective Burkhardt.” From where he was opening the door Sean froze, looking as close to startled as Nick had ever seen the unflappable man.

Behind him, Schade let out a nearly silent gasp before ducking out of sight, but it was too late. Nick had already seen her. He stared over Sean’s shoulder after her, catching sight of a modern looking living room and massive floor-to-ceiling windows. His mind scattered in a hundred different directions, questions spinning too fast for Nick to name, but none of them distracted him from the bone deep sense of betrayal he felt.

Sean Renard was a Royal, and he had his aunt’s murderer in his condo at ten o’clock on a Friday night. Sean Renard, who Nick had been working under for nearly five years, was a part of the Wesen world. If Monroe was to be believed, a central part. He was a man who Nick had trusted with his life and the life of his partner. A man who Nick had followed orders from, whom he’d admired, and who he had never thought to question until this very moment.

It _hadn’t_ been coincidence that Nick had been given all those Wesen related cases, because the Captain had known he was Grimm, most likely had known he could have been one before he even inherited it. Had Sean been involved in his aunt’s murder? He had to have been, why else would he have Adalind Schade in his home?

Nick felt something strange around his eyes; a tenseness he’d never felt before, like the skin was drawn tight and up towards his eyes. His head turned to stare down his Captain, rage making his hands shake.

“Nick,” Sean started, voice cautious and careful, but Nick was already done.

He tore his shield from his belt, tossing it at the Captain’s tellingly naked chest. The idea that someone like Sean Renard, an Alpha that Nick had _trusted,_ that Nick had followed orders from unquestionably, had probably just finished fucking Marie’s murderer made his stomach turn.

“Here’s my resignation.” Nick snarled, running too hot on adrenaline and fury to doubt his actions. He stormed away, long legs eating up the carpeted hallway. There was a curse behind him, then the sound of quick footsteps. Nick’s finger jammed the elevator call button so hard it hurt, but he barely felt it. A hand grabbed his elbow.

“Nick–”

Nick swung around, hands snapping out and sending the tall Alpha stumbling away from him. He felt his lips curl up in revulsion as he stared at Sean, a hand resting reflexively on his gun. Green eyes flickered from the gun to Nick’s face, and the Grimm felt his lips peel back to show his teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Nick, let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Nick asked sharply, his neck and ears hot from his anger. “How you’ve known what I was before I probably did? Or how you’re apparently some kind of royalty? Jesus Christ, _Sean,”_ Nick spat out even as some part of him flinched from using his given name. It didn’t matter now; this man was no longer his boss. “I came over here to try and give you the benefit of the doubt, because five years is a long time to know someone. But then this? Adalind Schade?”

Behind him the elevator dinged open. Nick forced himself to take a breath, unsure why his eyes felt so strange. He felt no urge to cry, he was just pissed off, but the odd stinging sensation didn’t stop.

“Did you know about my aunt’s murder, too? Did you set that up? God, I’m so blind. _Of course_ , you didn’t have extra guards for her! Fucking budget, my ass.”

He glared at the man that he’d once so respected. Hell, when Nick had first started working for the Portland PD, Nick had kind of wanted to be Sean Renard. Highly educated, highly decorated, with a flawless record. Unbelievable.

“Unbelievable.” Nick repeated out loud. He took a step back into the elevator. “Don’t follow me. Don’t contact me. Just – leave me the hell alone. I should shoot you.”

“But you won’t.” Sean said, voice so level it only made Nick even more angry.

“Don’t test me.” Nick hissed as the door slid shut.

* * *

“Well, shit.”

Sean closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, at the high-pitched voice. He could feel the urge to woge, but ignored it given he was standing in his building’s hallway and he was fairly sure the very Human Mr. and Dr. Williams did not need to see that. And with his current luck, they would.

He turned on his heel, ignoring Adalind. She was a necessary evil, he reminded himself as she immediately turned to follow him, just like her mother was. But damn it all, Sean couldn’t believe the way the night had gone. His thoughts raced; this was the absolute worst way for the Grimm to find out who he was. He had to recoup, to recover, to find a way to spin this –

“What are you going to do?” Adalind asked, sounding nervous. Sean let out an annoyed breath through his nose as he stepped into his apartment and turned to look at her. She was dressed to seduce in a short black dress with red paneling, that played up both her coloring and body, the small slip of fabric leaving the entirety of her lean legs on display.

Sean had come home to find her loitering outside the front desk, flirting with his guard. He’d only let her in for an update on Hank Griffin and despite her best attempts, Sean had not slept with her. _Like mother, like daughter,_ the Alpha thought with a flare of annoyance. The two of them were always trying to have sex with him and yes, Sean had slept with both before. He may even had tonight if the Mayor hadn’t been so completely neurotic as to have kept him at the dammed dinner until nearly ten at night.

Sex was easy capital in among their kind; meaningless and usually never done out of actual attraction with each other. And you better believe that Sean supplied his own condoms with both. While Catherine Schade may seem past bearing age, she was a Hexenbiest. Both she and her daughter could be stupidly fertile with a single Zaubertrank.

“Go home, Adalind.”

The Beta reared back, eyes wide and frantic. “You’re kidding? Sire, the _Grimm_ just found me here! He’s probably just waiting in the lobby to chop my head off!”

“You’ll just have to be extra careful, won’t you?” Sean stated dryly, already moving to close the door. It hadn’t escaped Sean’s notice that Adalind was hoping for something…deeper…out of their sporadic entanglements. She may have even thought they had more now, and Sean may or may not have lead that thinking on. It was hardly his fault, it wasn’t like Adalind was even remotely dull when it came to the little games their kinds played. A pet here, a stroke there, a kind word – those things should have hardly been enough for her to think there was a relationship.

“Please,” Adalind cooed, leaning forward to reach out, stroking his bare chest, “I promise I’ll make it worth your time. Come on, Sean, let me stay.”

But then again, Adalind was almost absurdly young for her age. Sean blamed Catherine for that. Lord knows his mother certainly had never kept the kid gloves on when raising him. He sighed, catching the hand before it could slip under his sweatpants. “Have Andrew walk you to your car. Go straight to your mother’s, I’ll have someone watching her house.”

It wasn’t what she wanted and the half childish pout, half enraged glint to her eyes spoke of it. She turned on her heel, stalking towards the elevator, spine straight.

“Adalind?” Sean called, waiting until she turned to let his woge ripple across his face. “Don’t forget yourself again.”

Her eyes dropped immediately, nodding stiffly. “Yes, sire. My apologies.”

Sean shut his door with a snort; what a child. An incredibly useless yet talented child, but a child all the same. He looked down at his hand, where Nick Burkhardt’s badge tauntingly rested. He glared at it, before carefully setting it next to his own on the entryway table.

Coffee first. Then he had some planning to do.

* * *

Nick held himself stiffly as the elevator descended, ignoring the way the Wesen guard – a Grauhund – all but scattered away from Nick as he left it. He made it out to his car, jaw clenched and eyes distant. He turned the key, checked traffic and pulled out.

It wasn’t until he pulled up outside of Monroe’s house that Nick even really realized that it had been his destination. For a moment he just sat in the running car, staring straight ahead. Then he let out a choked sound, hands coming up to rub at his eyes. The tears came then, angry and hot on his already flushed skin, but no one was there to judge him. There weren’t many, but for someone like Nick Burkhardt, it was more than enough. Nick wasn’t usually a crier, even when his parents had died. He’d always been more of a punch a wall then cry type of guy, but he just felt so overwhelmed all the sudden. In the last few months, his life had changed drastically. And every time Nick thought he’d found his feet, it decided to shift again, leaving him floundering all over again. He wished he could call Hank, that he could talk to someone who could understand the depth of the betrayal Nick felt. But Hank didn’t know anything about the Wesen world. And Monroe, could he really understand just how big of a blow this felt to Nick without having worked as a cop?

Jesus, Nick felt more alone then ever.

A knock on his window made him jump. Nick wiped at his eyes with his sleeve quickly, before turning the car off and opening the door. Monroe stood there, an umbrella out to protect himself from the rain. The Blutbad was watching him with open concern. “So, uh, I take it didn’t go well.”

The laugh Nick let out was slightly hysterical sounding to his own ears. “No, Monroe. It didn’t go well.”

Monroe pursed his lips together, before patting his shoulder consolingly. “Sorry, man. Come on, let’s go in. I’ve got some seriously good hot chocolate. Hey, don’t look at me like that. No one’s too old for hot chocolate, it's the ultimate comfort drink. And my hot chocolate? Yeah, prepare to have your mind blown.”

A half hour later, Nick was sitting at Monroe’s kitchen table drinking what was (admittedly) the best hot chocolate he’d ever had. The Beta had let him the use of his shower and gave him some sleep clothes, and Nick did feel better after washing up getting out of his soaked work clothes. But even if he was warmed up, Nick’s chest still felt tight and his stomach ached. Monroe was watching him from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, his own cup cradled against his chest.

“So. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Nick admitted, “though I probably need to.”

“Okay, buddy. We can take this at your pace.”

Nick smiled at that. Sometimes, he thought that Monroe would make a good father. It was part of the reason why he’d pushed Roddy at him. Monroe, for all his eccentricities, was a just a good guy. When it came to emotional stuff, he was far, far better at it all then Nick was. Not for the first time, the Grimm reflected on how glad he was that the Blutbad had come into his life.

“You know I went to his condo.” Nick started, staring intensely into the brown depths of his cup. “I wanted to know if it was true. I needed answers, preferably in a place where we could speak openly. Kind of hard to do that at the precinct, you know? And the cops I work with aren’t stupid, they’d have known something was up. I wanted…I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted. I think if I’m honest, I didn’t want it to be true at all.” Nick’s voice was strained, and he could feel the lump in it. He took a sip of the hot chocolate to try and clear it, but the creamy thickness only made it worse. “Can I get some water?”

“Sure. Tap or sparkling?”

Nick let out a breath of a laugh. “Tap’s fine, Monroe.”

“You sure? I’ve got this new berry flavor that’s pretty good.”

“Tap’s fine.” He waited until the water was presented, emptying half of it and dragging his forearm over his mouth afterwards. “If he did know about the Wesen world and me being a Grimm, I thought for sure he would have told me about it before now. I mean, why keep it from me?”

“Well,” Monroe said slowly, eyes drifting from Nick to the tile floor, “there could be a lot of reasons. You being a Grimm is a little intimidating. He may have wanted to see what type of Grimm you were, like a lot of people in our community did. I mean, you see how the Wesen community reacts to you, you know the type of person they expected you to be. Or maybe he just didn’t want to assume anything given his background. With the history between the Royals and Grimms and him being your actual boss, maybe he didn't that to make it weird between the two of you.”

“Or maybe he’s plotting my death.” Nick snapped back, irrationally annoyed at Monroe. He didn’t want anyone to try to explain or excuse away Sean’s actions.

The Blutbad’s head snapped up to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“When I arrived at his condo, Adalind Schade was leaving it.” Nick explained darkly.

Monroe looked floored. “The Hexenbiest that tried to kill your aunt?”

“Yeah and it looked like they’d just finishing having a _nice time,_ too.” Nick seethed. 

“What did he say when he saw you?”

“Not much after I threw my badge at him and quit, and–”

Monroe jolted, looking mildly alarmed. “Wait, Nick. You quit? But you –”

“– threatened to shoot him.”

“– love being a cop. Wait, you threatened to _shoot him?"_ The Blutbad's voice went up several octaves, looking more then slightly alarmed now. “Jesus, Nick! You threatened to kill a Royal?”

“You’re god damn right I did.”

“Nick, you can’t just–”

Nick’s exploded to his feet, practically vibrating with anger.

“I don’t _give a shit_ who the fuck he is.” He was aware that he was shouting and that Monroe didn’t deserve that, but Nick couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop. “He probably had Marie killed! And I know she was horrible, and everyone was terrified of her and she killed people, but she was the only family I had left! She was practically another mother to me! You remember when I called you to guard her in the hospital? That was because _Renard_ said he couldn’t justify the extra hours to keep a detail on her! Convenient, right? And do you know the worst part? I _trusted_ him. I’ve worked for Sean Renard for five years, Monroe! Even before becoming a Grimm my job could be dangerous and as my captain, I had to trust that he was making decisions that wouldn’t get me and my partner killed. And I did. I did! And now this? He's been lying to me for the entire-”

“Nick.” Monroe barked, the name so loud and sharp it broke his rant. “Put the knife down, please.”

Nick froze, eyes darting down to see the chef’s knife that Monroe had left out on the counter from dinner in his hand. He was holding it so tight that his fingers had started to go white. “When did I…?”

“I need you to put it down, Nick.” There was a growl to Monroe’s words and when he looked up, he could see the crimson sheen to the Blutbad’s eyes. “You’re pissed, I get it. But you’re in my house, and having a pissed of Grimm in my house with a knife is really messing with my instincts.”

Nick dropped the knife like it bit him, backing away until he stood in the entryway to the kitchen. Monroe moved towards the knife slowly, eyes never leaving Nick even as he bent down and picked it up. “Monroe,” Nick started, “I’m sorry. I don’t even remember grabbing it.”

The Beta said nothing as he straightened. He set the knife behind him on the counter, eyes still locked on Nick, and then went completely still. The sight of it made the Omega’s stomach twist, a shudder traveling up his spine and as the little hairs on his arm stood up. His own instincts were alight, making his skin feel too tight and his hand ache for the knife again. It was the stillness, Nick realized, that was setting them off. The stillness and the utter inhumanity of it. Sometimes it was easy to forget what Monroe was. Even if he was a Weider now, Monroe was still a predator. _A maneater,_ the back of Nick's mind hissed.

“Monroe,” Nick tried again when the Blutbad continued to do nothing but watch him, red eyes gleaming in the dim kitchen. “Monroe, I wouldn’t hurt you. You…know that, right?” 

“I know, Nick.”

The Omega stared at him; eyes wide. Even that first night – when he’d shown up unannounced at Monroe’s house – he’d never heard him sound like this. Nick looked away, suddenly ashamed, and swallowed harshly. “I…I’m going to go home after all.”

“I think that’s best.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Goodnight, Monroe. And…I’m sorry, again.” The anger was gone, leaving nothing but the crushing weight in his chest. Nick turned - ignoring the way a part of him screamed at the idea of giving the Blutbad his back - and fled the kitchen. He leaned heavily on the front door as he forced his feet into his shoes, uncaring that the rush made the left heel bend in under his foot uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he done that? What had made him pick up the knife?

“Nick.” Monroe called out, stopping him just before he escaped through the front door. “Call me tomorrow morning, alright?”

Nick let out a breath, eyes closing in relief as he leaned heavily against the door, hand on the knob. “Yeah, Monore. I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick's had a hell of night.


End file.
